


Dinner?

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221b, Baker Street, Chinese Takeaway, Domestic Johnlock, Fluff, Funny, Idiots in Love, M/M, idiots being idiots, why are they so bad at communicating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Dinner?

“We need to figure out what to eat for dinner” was said in passing as John was putting on his coat, heading to his shift at the surgery. Sherlock was styling his hair in the mirror as he grumbled in answer. Later, around lunch, John tried texting instead.  
  
"What do you want to eat tonight?"  
"Whatever, I don’t care. SH"  
  
Not much of a success. On his way back home, he tried calling, but to no avail; his flatmate was too busy with whatever experiment he had going on and couldn’t find it in himself to answer. Exhausted, but mostly hungry, John decided to make a little detour and pick up some of their favourite Chinese takeaway. He ordered a few plates to share and read the news on his phone while he waited for his food. He received a text.  
  
"Are you coming home soon? SH"  
"Soon, yes."  
  
When it was done, he finally headed back home. He paid the cabbie and carried the two bags out, struggling a bit with his key before making his way upstairs.  
  
“Sherlock, I come bearing gifts so would you be considerate enough to come and open the door?”  
  
He heard hurried steps behind the door and it opened on an impeccably well dressed Sherlock, staring at him with slightly larger eyes, shock painting his features.   
  
“ _Oh_.”  
  
John frowned, taking a step forward and pushing Sherlock to the right so he could enter the room.   
  
“Yeah, I thought I’d pick up food on the way, as I know for a fact you haven’t eaten anything in the last two days and I was famished coming out of the surg— _Oh_.”  
  
Sherlock watched John walk around their living room, setting the bags on the floor while he took off his coat. He picked them back up to step into the kitchen and stopped, frozen. The moment stretched between them until Sherlock, looking at the ground, ashamedly mumbled.  
  
“You said we needed to figure out supper, and I thought Chinese would make you happy.”  
  
John stared at the food on the table, identical to the one he’d ordered, and he started giggling. It quickly turned into full blown laughter and he had to move forward and lean against a kitchen chair to prevent falling over. He deposited the bags on the chair and turned to look at Sherlock, who’d joined in, his face stretched in a gorgeous smile, his eyes bright.  
  
“We… are ridiculous,” John managed after a minute, catching his breath.   
  
Sherlock nodded and stepped closer, putting his hand on the chair next to John’s, and they stayed there, looking at each other as their laughter turned into pleasant silence. Sherlock picked up John’s bags and placed them in the refrigerator, coming back with a bottle of wine, as John got two plates and started placing different pieces of meat and vegetables portions of their personal favourites. They sat facing each other, exchanging sauces and passing various plates as they discussed the events of their day. John chuckled as Sherlock explained how Mrs Hudson ended up covered in green paint when she brought up some tea, and Sherlock quietly listened as John described some of his most difficult patients. They refilled their glasses a few times, and the night ended in their seats by the fireplace, enjoying the comfortable evening in their cozy home.


End file.
